


Curator's Assistant

by melchixr



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Ernst, Co-workers, Fate & Destiny, M/M, Museums, One-Sided Attraction, Romantic Tension, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, True Love, assistant moritz, museum curator melchior, tour guide hanschen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-03 04:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11524218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melchixr/pseuds/melchixr
Summary: “What are you doing in my office?” I growled, looking into his eyes. I couldn’t quite tell the color because the bags below them were so intense that it just looked like a void behind a pair of wire framed glasses. “Get out! Get the FUCK out right FUCKING now before I call the FUCKING cops!”The man was flinching at every word, but when I took a deep breath in before shouting again, he blurted out. “I’m Moritz Stiefel, your assistant!”





	1. Chapter 1

I once read that there is a different version of heaven for everyone. And when you die, you go to your own specialized, personalized heaven. Well, if God turns out to be real, and I somehow wind up not getting sent straight to hell, then I would wind up in a heaven similar to an empty museum. The fountain in the courtyard was flowing, and all the lights were on, but there wasn’t a single living soul in the building. Well, besides the girls down at the front desk, and a couple of custodians.

But the halls were empty. No museum-goers or employees roaming around looking suicidal. And no horrific children with sticky fingers swinging at my vases or canvases.

That’s why I’m content with my office being in the farthest corner of the museum, with the modern art. I wandered the empty white corridors with wide windows and into the huge room.

“Ernst!” I called out to the man on the far side of the exhibit, walking around the colorful blocks on the ground and avoiding the massive pelican statues made of trash hanging from the ceiling. The resident artist was setting up paint cans and his large canvas for the ten o’clock live exhibition. He turned around, a goofy smile and a splash of pink paint already on his face. “We’re expecting a big crowd today. I was looking at patron statistics and Wednesday’s have become our most popular days, surprisingly.”

“Should I do another afternoon exhibit then?” he asked, standing and wiping off a handful of brushes on his jeans.

I shrugged, pulling the daily schedule from my book bag, “Well we have field trip leaving at four so wanna do another one in the classical wing at two?”

Ernst just smiled at me the big, warm smile that made me suddenly realize why Hanschen, our head tour guide and art historian, was so happy when they wound up being soulmates.

But I still found the pair perfectly insufferable whenever they were together. For some reason, the now engaged couple always felt the need to retell the story of how Hanschen felt Ernst’s burn first but Ernst didn’t feel Hanschen’s until he had left a message on Ernst’s machine while the artist was at work. The painting was hanging up in their apartment still, with a huge red streak across the canvas and the words ‘HOLY FUCK’ painted on it sloppily.  “Sure thing, boss. Are there canvases downstairs?”

“New shipment came in last night.”

Ernst gave me a plucky thumbs up sign, signalling me to continue on my way and unlock the oak door before me that had the words ‘M. GABOR: HEAD MUSEUM CURATOR’ engraved in gold below the window. “Wait, Melchi, is there a new custodian?”

I paused awkwardly, thinking of all the recent museum news I had stored away. No. No new custodian. And I would be the first person to know.

“No. No, absolutely not,” I stammered out and finally looked over to the younger, much more liberal minded man. “Why?”

“A guy went into your office earlier that I didn’t recognize. But he had keys so I assumed he was maintenence.”

I knew literally every single person who worked here. From Tony in the giftshop, to all ten tour guides, to Pat and Sam, who cleaned up the fountain each night. And last time I checked no one else in the world has a copy of my key besides the owner of the museum.

Ernst saw the cogs in my brain turning so he simply made a shrugging motion and tucked his things into his cart, rolling it loudly out of the room.

I’ve never unlocked my door faster and been more shocked to walk into my own office. My desk was still on the other side of the fairly small room, but the big bay windows looking over the courtyard that would soon be filled with a smatter of art-lovers.  And that was all well laid out and neat.

But right in front of the door was a rickety old desk covered in pieces of paper and a handful of books I didn’t recognize. It definitely wasn’t there when I left last night. The most terrifying thing was the packaging thrown all around at random. Packaging for what  I assumed was the 1345 ink on parchment piece from the Yuan Dynasty I was supposed to pick up today just laying on the ground at my feet.   
  
“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!” I barked loudly at the person standing on the other side of the desk. Picking up the art piece as daintily as possible, I looked at the figure that definitely didn’t belong in here. “Who the HELL are you?”

The figure was a man. He was very thin by the look of it, wearing a slightly baggy thrift store dress shirt and slacks. His hair was jet black and stuck out in every direction in frizzy curls. And not curls like my little brown flips. Just an absolute mess.

“What are you doing in my office?” I growled, looking into his eyes. I couldn’t quite tell the color because the bags below them were so intense that it just looked like a void behind a pair of wire framed glasses. “Get out! Get the FUCK out right FUCKING now before I call the FUCKING cops!”

The man was flinching at every word, but when I took a deep breath in before shouting again, he blurted out. “I’m Moritz Stiefel, your assistant!”

The pause for breath gave way into a long pause as I thought back into the hundreds of time where my boss had tried to tell me that I’m stretching myself too thin and need an assistant if I demand on being the only curator in the whole museum.

And the hundreds of time I told them no, I really don’t.

“My assistant….” I muttered and set the art piece down on my own desk. “So I’m thinking that they hired you, gave you the key on the desk without ever thinking of telling me.”

The guy, Moritz, didn’t respond. Possibly out of fear that I’d pull the plethora of books off my wall and chuck them at his head. I continued with a groan. “Anyway, if you’re going to assist, you might as well be a good one, right?” He nodded. “Fine, first things first, clean this shit up. My office is a tidy area and you aren’t changing that.”

“Yessir.”

“Second, don’t call me that.  How old are you? Twenty? I’m not some old man,” I sat at the desk and took a long sip from my thermos. My eyes gravitated towards the little stream of ink on the side of Moritz’s neck. 

It wasn’t rare to see ‘Love Tattoos’ out in the open. Lots of people showed them off proudly, especially when they had already been turned red. I guess it was a badge of honor to have your soulmate say that special dumb fucking phrase. But Moritz’s was still black.

Huh, okay. I dunno why my brain felt the need to focus in on it.

The practical stranger began to pick up the packaging. “I’m uh…I’m twenty-six.”

“God, you look like a high schooler with a sleeping disorder how are you older than me?” I told him in a stern voice and continued. “Anyway, I want you to ASK before you pick up deliveries from me next time. And when you’re done cleaning can you run up to the program manager’s office and give Janet my weekly update?”

“I don’t know where that is and why can’t you just email it?” Moritz said bluntly. I really liked this guy more when he was shy.

Sighing, I stood and approached my new coworker. “Cause nothing gets done in here when you email. And when you’re done, run to starbucks and get me a grande soy latte, triple shot.”

“I’m an assistant, not an intern!” Moritz bit back indignantly.  He was gonna learn really fast not to speak to me like that.

“My assistant. Chop chop.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Moritz!” I kicked open the door of my office and called out into the large empty room. There was only one other body in sight, and it was far too muscular to be my assistant. I poked my head out and looked around, “Moritz! Where the hell is he?”

 

“Who?” Hanschen called back from where he stood by the larger frame painting of angels in a bathtub. “What’s crawled up your ass today, Mr. Gabor.”

 

I took a step out to show him the full essence of what I was now. My hair was a mess, my sleeves had been sloppily rolled up, and my arms were filled with at least ten books that Moritz had put into the wrong place when I asked him to organize last night. “The fact that my office can barely fit one person and I’m cramming in two! And the person I’m cramming in doesn’t pick up after himself, can barely tell the difference between impressionism and synthetism, and takes half an hour to bring me coffee that’s a block away.”

 

Hanschen scoffed and went back to taking his daily notes for the other guides. “Wow, he’s sure taken an effect on you, Melchior.” he whispered, looking up quickly so there was a quick flash of blue.  “Hell, maybe he’s even changed you.”

 

“Doubt it. I hope he ran away,” I stated venomously and went back to putting up books on the plethora of shelves. 

 

Just as I was going back to work, the loudspeaker came on with Ilse’s voice. “IT IS NINE-FIFTY. TEN MINUTES UNTIL OPENING, EVERYONE.”

 

If this dumbass wasn’t back before Melchior saw the first patron, he was going to have to find a new job.

 

I was finally done putting away books in their right sections when there was a very panicked knock at the door. I was used to it. It was probably a co-worker who needed me to sign something or oversee a project. Or maybe a confused patron or teacher who hasn’t seen an employee in hours and thought to knock on my door.

 

But when I opened it, it was just Moritz with his big, scared, puppy dog eyes and two cups of Starbucks. “Hey, I’m here,” he stated blankly, holding out a cup to me. All I did in response was glare. “What? What did I do?”

 

I’ve always been dramatic since I was a kid. And always had minor unresolved anger problems. So why not drag this out. “Where the fuck were you?! I expect you to be back before the fucking museum opens!” I hissed, still not letting him into the office.

 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he muttered and tried to walk into the office we shared. But my leg blocked the way.

 

“Nu-uh,” I scolded, “From now on, this is my fucking office again. And just mine. I didn’t ask for you in the first place! So I’m not going to keep you around if you pull shit like that! Get in here, get your shit, and LEAVE!”

 

Now the small handful of the people in the modern art exhibit at 10:10 am were looking over at us. I must’ve been raising my voice but at this point I could care less.

 

“I was getting YOUR coffee,” Moritz bit back, much more quiet than I had been. “Just let me in, please. You're causing a scene.”

 

“I don’t care, Moritz. I didn’t want you in the first place, so now I want you GONE!” I barked at the much frailer man. 

 

Immediately, I saw his eyes widen. It was as if there was a boogeyman standing right behind me. But he was looking me dead in the eyes. I was the boogeyman.  And then, with a harsh yelp, he dropped the fucking coffee.

 

It almost went in slow motion. The white cups leaving his pale white hand, slowly tumbling to the ground, the lids popping off and the light brown and scalding hot liquid splashing all over the floor. And, coincidentally all over my three-hundred dollar shoes.

 

I gasped at the sight, not even thinking to tear my eyes away from the growing puddle at my feet. “Oh my god, you fucking…” When I looked up finally, I saw Moritz holding his hands over his neck as if he were just bitten there.  “What? What happened?”

 

Moritz suddenly shoved past me, not even daring to look at me or the terrible mess of two dropped coffees on the ground. “I have to go. I need to go home.”

 

He seemed panicked and beyond frightened as he ran to his makeshift desk and began cramming things into his bag. One hand remained planted on the side of his neck.

 

Maybe he was upset? Had I said something wrong? 

 

Most likely.

 

But he wasn’t giving me any attention, which was the worst part.

 

“I didn’t mean it when I told you that I want you gone! I was just mad! You’re not fired!” I quickly tried to clean up my figurative mess. “I’m sorry for what I said if that’s what you wanna hear!”

 

“No, no, no…” Moritz threw his books into the overflowing messenger bag. His eyes were wide and filled with fear. “I just need to go home right now. I’m sorry but if you really end up needing me I’ll just do it tomorrow.”

 

I approached him quickly, not bothering to look the small tour group, lead by Hanschen, who had stopped in front of the still open door. “So you’ll come back tomorrow? Thank god! Is your neck okay?”

 

I moved to touch his hand but his free hand immediately slapped it away. “A wasp bite. Or a bee. Or a muscle spasm. Yeah! That! I need to go home.”

 

With the final statement, Moritz took off out of the office. He was gone fast, nearly slipping on the spill along the way, but not taking his hand off of the side of his neck. 

 

“Huh….” Hanschen broke the silence of me just watching him run away. “Do you want me to call a custodian?”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Turtlenecks may have been highfashion. And might have even been comfortable. But they definitely weren’t spring clothing. So why the hell had Moritz started wearing them.

It was like now, all he had was turtlenecks. All his old clothes had been tossed out and all he owned were a variety of turtlenecks. For a while, I didn’t bring it up. Even as I saw his sweating when he ran errands or typed up my notes.

But I didn’t bring it up because I would be lying if I said he didn’t look damn amazing in them.

From time to time, I found myself sitting at my desk, gazing across the room just to watch him. His long, thin arms extending to type, the bottom of the sweater lifting up when he reached to grab a book from one of the shelves, his tongue darting out to lick his fingers before sorting through papers.

“Can I help you, Melchior?”

His voice shook me from my trance-like state to realize I was still staring straight ahead even when he was standing literally inches in front of me. It scared me so much I had practically jumped out of my seat. “Moritz!” I yelped. He laughed at me as if I were a shocked child.  “Oh uh…What?”

Still snickering, Moritz held out a large envelope. “It’s a delivery plan for next week. We’re going to have a lot of Asian art now. Is that going to become it’s own exhibit?”

“Oh, I don’t know if we have room for a whole exhibit on that….” I scoffed and took the stack of papers. “Even if we the budget.”

“Well if we condense the Roman art and architecture into one room, which would be easy, we would have plenty of room for Asian art. And there will  actually be plenty of wiggle room in the budget after we finish the auction next month.”

Holy fuck.

I shifted in my seat awkwardly, looking over the thin boy. “Wow…I guess you looked into it more than I have, Moritz.”

“It’s something I tend to toy with,” He shrugged and walked back to his desk, letting me glance over his butt as he did.

No, Melchior, I thought to myself. You can’t let this dumb pretty boy distract you.  That’s the whole point of soulmates, so you don’t have to waste your time staring at your gorgeously sullen co-worker.

Maybe another glance wouldn’t hurt.

I looked up from the papers of gibberish to see him there again. His feet were up on the desk, slacks riding up a little bit to show his purple and green striped socks. But I ignored that and looked to see what he was doing. Reading….War and Peace?

“You read a lot…” I hummed, just loud enough for him to hear.

When Moritz looked up, his  head of fluff bounced so beautifully.  “What?”

“You’re always reading something,” I went on to explain. I noticed the little shine in his eyes as I continued. “Do you like it a lot or…Or that’s just a dumb question isn’t it….”

Moritz took his feet down and leaned over the desk as if he were already enthralled. “No, that’s not dumb at all. Yeah, I love reading…I don’t have a television so it’s the main way I get my entertainment.”

Chuckling, I leaned back in my seat and turned a bit to look out of the large window beside me. The people in the courtyard looked like ants, moving from one section to another, sitting down to talk or eat, or just admiring the fountain in the center of it all.  “I never pegged you as the reading type.”

“Well then I guess you never looked deep enough.”

Playfully, I gazed over my shoulder. Moritz was leaning on his desk now, chin in his hands like a school girl gossiping. “Shouldn’t you be working?” I grinned, leaning forward onto the edge of my seat.

“Shouldn’t you, boss?”

“Touche.”

Another giggle, cheeks even a brighter pink. I realized the sound of him giggling was possibly the sweetest sound in the world.

He stammered out, suddenly shy. “Think about the new exhibit. I know it’s not my job and that you don’t need me around but…”

“Oh no, it’s a good idea.” I assured quickly. “I’m sorry for what I said. I love having you around.”

Moritz smiled down at his hands, nervously pressed  onto the top of his desk. “Oh…Well…I guess I better get back to work. And uh…thank you…”

There was a pause, full of both of us just grinning to ourselves like stupid highschoolers. And for some reason, I felt like I was a giddy teenager again.

“Or just reading in this case?” I added after a moment when he picked up the novel once more

Moritz just shrugged me off. “You should get to know me better.”

“Why is that?” I said playfully, devoting all my attention to him.

“Because I only do this-”

Oh no.

“-when I’m all done-”

My heart suddenly stopped beating. I felt like I knew what was coming, but it couldn’t be.

“-working.”

The stinging I thought would never felt took a second. There was a pause, where I thought it must’ve just been pure coincidence. But then it came.

Pain. Horrible stinging pain that felt like a million bees and wasps were covering the spot on the right side of my ribs. It almost felt like the skin on my torso was burning clear off of my body.

This is what it felt like. After it being explained to me a million times by a million people, I finally understood what it felt like.

And the fear of who it was was far scarier than the pain.

“FUCK!” I screamed and clutched my side to try to stop the pain. Flailing out of panic, I quickly tipped out of my seat and onto the floor.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.

“Melchior!” The nasally, glorious voice called from behind me. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” I lied and pulled myself to my feet. Moritz moved as if he was going to help me up, but I couldn’t  “I don’t know but I need you to go measure the Roman architecture room.”

His eyes narrowed at me. He could see right through me. But he didn’t dare question it.  “Like…measure the whole room?”

“Yes. By foot. Get the tape from maintenance,” I said bluntly. When I looked up to see he hadn’t left yet, I raised my voice. “Did I say in ten minutes?”

He didn’t say anything else, just left. Leaving me to sit in my own panic until he came back.

This can’t be happening.


	4. Chapter 4

  
“That is the single most illegal thing I can think of.”

 

“Wendla, I’m begging you,” I pleaded and leaned against the desk. “I’ll do literally anything for you to tell  me his address.”

 

The very pretty museum docent laughed. “You really think I am going to just tell you where this kid lives? You could go and murder him with that information! We all know that you hate him. It was a fact Hanschen used at Staff Trivia Night.”

 

Instead of asking why I wasn’t invited to Staff Trivia Night (which might be because I once told Hanschen to suck his own dick in front of a crowd on ten year olds when he got the year on a painting wrong), I just looked into her big blue eyes and pouted some more.  “Melchi, I love you but you’re an idiot.” She said jarringly. “What makes you think I even know how to get that information. I just greet people who come in and tell them where the bathrooms are.”

 

“Well… Your best friend is the registrar….”

 

After a long pause, Wendla let out a long sigh. “Do you want me...To break into Martha’s office? Like a common criminal?”

 

“Well if she were still here three hours after closing, I would just ask her. But since we’re the only two here with no lives on a Saturday night, I gotta ask you. So pretty please?”

 

The woman stepped out from behind the tall desk. She was definitely beautiful. She had this charming, youthful glow about her that made her feel like a little girl. But she was in no way childish. Wendla had put me in my place more times than I’d like to admit. And with her wife, Ilse, being head of security, I pity any man who dare mistake that childish glow for ignorance. I once watched her scissor kick a grown man in a bar for asking her what color her panties were. 

 

“Fine,” She muttered and glared at me with the rage of a billion sons. “But only if you tell me why.”

 

My defenses suddenly went up. All senses were standing on high alert as I responded instinctively. “What? I don’t need to explain myself to anyone!”

 

“If you’re having them do illegal activities for you, then yes, you do!”

 

Damn, she’s right.

 

After a pause to think, I took a deep breath. I was definitely not ready. But I didn’t think I’d ever be.  As I spoke, I untucked the bottom of my dress shirt. “Ok so...Do you know how you felt they day you found out Ilse was your soulmate?”

 

Wendla looked at the red lettering on her forearm. Her eyes were filled with nostalgic joy. “Oh yeah... first day of senior year and she had just transferred to my school. And we were in English together. I thought she was funny and smart so I invited her to have lunch with my group. Then when she sat at the table and asked me what I was having….I felt like a thousand needles were pressing my arm.” She looke dup for only a moment, breaking out of her memories. “It was amazing…”

 

“Were you scared?”

 

“Not really,” Wendla replied. “I was so happy to have met my soulmate. And to have a soulmate so pretty and smart and charming. And also get to start having guilt free sex with her and know it was for the rest of my life.” She looked down to see me unbuttoning my shirt from the bottom. “What the hell are you doing?”

 

Instead of responding, I lifted up my shirt to reveal my right ribcage. What used to be covered in black writing was not dotted in a very light red. But what it was is still very obvious. “Because I was really afraid.”

 

“Holy shit, Melchior,” She gasped. “Why didn’t you tell anyone. Who is it?”   
  
Normally, soulmates are a big deal. You find out who yours is and you tell everyone you know. Your coworkers, your family, your dog, the strangers you see on the street. People tend to throw parties even, introducing themselves to the world as a sign that true love is everywhere. 

 

But I let my silence speak for me instead. Just like how I was deadly silent the day it happened. Wendla knew almost immediately, telling by my expression. “Oh no… It’s Moritz isn’t it.”

 

I let my shirt fall back down and buttoned it again. “And the day after it turned, he resigned. Didn’t even tell it to my face. Just dropped it in my office on top of his completely cleared of desk. Didn’t even sign it.” 

 

Wendla didn’t say anything. She seemed to just know immediately what she had to do and took off towards the stairs. 

 

As I waited for courage in the dimly lit parking lot, I rolled over my options. A large part of my brain told me to toss the paper right out the window. I could just do what I’m good at and ignore it.

 

Ignore it by having sex with strangers who also hadn’t met their soulmate’s yet and playing pretend that the words on their body were my own. 

 

Telling people who asked that I was one of the rare ones who just doesn’t have a soulmate and play pretend to be the one in a million.

 

Making plans to live out the rest of my life alone with a cat and a library and play pretend that I don’t want to wake up next to someone every day.

 

Just go home and take a cold shower and play pretend that the words are still black and I still don’t know who it could possibly do. 

 

But my eyes trailed back to the piece of paper in the passenger seat. On it was a hastily scribbled address in pen along with a doodled heart and a small ‘go get him!’.

 

I couldn’t help but put Moritz’s face on all the fantasizes I’d been having since I was a little kid. Of taking my soulmate to a park and holding their hand. Going ice skating with my soulmate in the winter and cuddling in the taxi on the way home. Baking bread with my soulmate and messing up the recipe but not caring because they’re so cute. Having my soulmate steal my blankets from me in the middle of the night and getting revenge by tickling them until they beg for mercy.

 

All my life, that soulmate had been a blur. A shapeless, faceless form that carried all my hopes and dreams for a perfect life.  Now it’s Moritz Stiefel with his dumb messy pouf of hair and his dark circles under his hazel eyes. And his long, pale face framed perfectly by that pair of crooked glasses that sat so precariously on his nose. And the splash of dark freckles that marked randomly along his cheeks and neck.

 

44 Oxford Street

Suite 2

 

And my car was pulling out of the parking lot.

 

Oxford Street wasn’t too far from Bellevue Road, where I knew Otto lived. And if I go from there onto Stoneybrook Street and took one more left onto  Bradford Lane, it’s right there. 

 

The apartments were smaller than I imagined. Just a little two story brick duplex. It was perfect split into two narrow halves with two doors, each other having a small front porch. That of Suite 1 had a plethora of potted plants all with little garden ornaments and trinkets in them, as well as an American flag and a “This House and My Heart Belongs To My Yorkie” sign. 

 

Suite 2 had a dead plant and one overflowing ashtray. 

 

My mind sure new how to pick them. 

 

For a long while, I just sat in my car in front of the house. The neighborhood seemed nice, sorta busy, but still cozy. It seemed like a nice place to live. So why should I come barging in and ruining it all for him. He left for a reason. So who the hell am I to track him down after he very specifically did all he could to get away from me?

 

His fucking soul mate that’s who. 

 

I made sure to not look back as I charged toward the front door on a mission to fall head over heels for this human trainwreck. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was appreciated! I post all my works first on my tumblr http://melchixr.tumblr.com/  
> Please leave comments to validate me!!! thank u for reading!!


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